TOW a few people make all the difference
by spiralnebulaM31
Summary: Welcome to a journey full of Monica's birthdays throughout the years. How did the hurting little girl become a strong happy woman?
1. Chapter 1

**_AN: I couldn't get this idea out of my mind! It was supposed to be an one-shot, but it ended up being a lot longer than I expected, so here is the first chapter and two more will follow. Thanks for giving this a shot and if you want to, let me know what you think! :)_**

* * *

"How old are you, Monica?"

Little Monica brings her hand in front of her face, folding her thumb into her palm.

"Four." She whispers, not caring that she can't be heard over the chaos of the Gellers' house.

She knows it's her birthday. She doesn't remember her last birthday, but she knows what that day means. She also knows that she became four years old when she blew out the pink candles on her chocolate cake. People have been asking her the same question all day; of course she has memorized the number after all those times she has repeated it.

The old lady who asked her this time quickly loses interest in her. Monica looks at her going away without another word. Her eyes follow her through the noisy living room until she stops and sits near her mommy.

Monica takes a few sticky crumbs from her forgotten empty plate in front of her and rubs them on her pretty dress. Do not run in your fancy dress, Monica. We wouldn't want it to get dirty, would we? Her mommy has told her in that tone of hers that makes Monica uncomfortable.

Her eyes fall to the stain that has formed on her dress and she gasps when someone grabs her from behind. Once she realizes who it is, she smiles, and squeals in delight as her daddy picks her up and places her on his shoulders. He walks her around the room, asking her if she's having fun and promising her more fun later, when they open her presents.

Their moments are interrupted by her mommy's voice, requesting more napkins from the kitchen. Her daddy lowers her to the floor again, leaving her next to Rachel and the other little girls.

Rachel hands her a doll. Monica takes it and instinctively brings it on her chest. She gives the doll a hug, a soft squeeze she so desperately needs from her mommy this day.

But her mommy only has eyes for the dark haired boy who sits attached to her hip in the armchair. Monica looks at them while the girls keep playing beside her.

Her mommy talks with some of the ladies who asked her about her age again and again.

The boy though, doesn't look as proud as he did when he came home from school. He looks rather bored.

He turns his head towards Monica and their eyes lock.

Rachel chooses that moment to grab the doll back from Monica's embrace.

The boy sits up alarmed.

Their mommy glances at him confused, but lets him walk away from their cozy seat.

Ross sits beside his little sister and pokes her knee. He wiggles his hands in his pockets, searching for something.

A piece of paper appears in his hands knd he puts it on Monica's lap.

Monica unfolds it curiously and looks at the simple drawing and the incomprehensible scribblings.

"Here it says Happy Birthday Monica. See? And that's you and me." He points at two stick figures side by side, one holding an unreasonably big pencil and the other something that resembles a book. "You don't know how to write yet, but today the teacher told mommy that I'm doing good at school. I can teach you."

Monica is grinning widely and her arms are around her brother's neck in no time, squeezing him and falling onto him on the floor.

"Monica! Be careful!" Her mommy sounds irritated from across the room.

Monica sits back on her feet, folds the paper and decides to be excited for the rest of her presents. She knows it will be fun; her daddy has promised her.

::::

"Happy birthday to you!"

The singing voices stop and wait for Monica to blow the candles. She remains frozen in front of the cake, the frost and cherries on top of it nauseating her while a few days ago only the thought of a birthday cake made her drool.

"Come on, my little Harmonica!" Her dad's voice takes her out of the haze in her mind. She raises her eyes to his expectant face, but can't bring herself to move.

She feels Rachel beside her start blowing the candles for her. The other girls ? some of her cousins and Rachel's sisters; Monica doesn't have any other friends anyway ? and Ross join her and blow the ten candles together.

Those will be the birthday photos of this year: a bunch of kids around Monica, with happy smiles on their faces, and the now ten-year-old Monica looking like she's about to break down.

Her mom gives her a soft smile and takes the cake away.

Rachel gives her a hug and Monica lets a tear fall from her eye.

She's ten years old. She's supposed to be a kid, but she doesn't feel like one anymore. She might not be old enough to understand why adults do what they do, but she doesn't fail to understand the feelings of the people around her.

She knows she's far from being anyone's favorite person, she can feel it.

Deep down she has always known, but the last few days were the final blow.

She has been learning how to play the piano for years and she's getting better and better. It's not her favorite past time activity, but she likes it enough to keep trying. She keeps trying to get even better. That could give her mom a chance to like her better and maybe even draw the attention her dad almost manages to give her before her mom interrupts his actions of kindness towards her every single time.

That's what she thought before what happened two days ago. It was the evening she played a solo piece in the school's piano recital for the first time. She has played in a recital before, but never alone, never having her own piece and all the lights of the stage on her.

Her parents weren't in the previous recitals. The first time, it happened to be on the same day with the city's science fair that Ross participated in. The second time Ross was sick and they stayed at home. The third time Monica didn't even tell them about it and got yelled at afterwards for "wandering outside so late".

Her solo recital, however, meant a lot to her and she really wanted them to be there. The school had prepared special invitations for that one, which Monica was excited to give to her parents and her grandparents weeks before the event.

Once again her parents didn't make it.

Only her grandma did. Monica saw her before her performance. She didn't see anyone else and she knew. She saw the encouraging smile her grandma threw her way and decided that she would play for her.

And she did.

She played really well, her chubby fingers gliding above the keys, her body moving with the music, feeling the music with every fiber of her being, living it. Making everyone else feel it as well. She got the biggest applause of the night and even after her grandma's warm hug, she felt numb.

When her grandma took her home, her mom murmured an excuse of being busy, having to clean up the house for her birthday and cook for her, because she was "eating so much these days".

Monica ran to her room without saying a word.

Her dad came to her room later that night and had an expression on his face, that made Monica's disappointed heart feel sympathy for him. His eyes were puffy and red. They matched his daughter's perfectly.

Monica lied back on her bed and turned away from the door. Her dad approached the bed and hesitated for a few seconds. He ended up planting a kiss on her hair and whispering that he loved her.

After he left Monica began crying even harder and clutched her rounded belly. No, not eating wouldn't be that bad for her, she was already fat. Her classmates had to remind her of that every day.

That's how she ended up at her party, being the only miserable kid, while she should be the most cheerful.

She eyes the inviting piece of cake her mother has placed in her hands. She doesn't want it. She just wants for everyone to be gone, so that she can be able to sleep in her comfy bed.

Her grandma comes near her and envelopes her in a half hug.

"You can open it now." She tells her with a wink as she gives her a colorful box.

Monica smiles involuntarily at her and looks back at her cake for a second. Despite her stubborn attitude, she knows she'll eat something soon. Apart from the moments she spends with Rachel, eating is what she likes to do best. Apparently, her grandma's present ? and presence ? makes her feel okay as well. So, she takes what she can get and eats her piece of cake under her grandma's loving glance.

::::

"Monica, it's your sweet sixteen! You have to do something!" Rachel says as they're walking back home from school.

Monica rolls her eyes at her friend's words. "Rachel, just because you anticipate your birthday party, doesn't mean I have something to look forward to."

Monica feels her friend's questioning glance on her. How can Rachel not understand?

The answer comes to her in seconds. They've been friends for as long as they can remember themselves. Actually, Rachel is the only friend Monica has ever had. She sees her as who she is inside, not just the ugly fat girl whose classmates are used to mock.

Monica has had a difficult time at school. Every kid insults her on every occasion; most of the times without a particular reason. She knows she's fat. She can't deny it to herself. But she wishes everyone didn't have to remind her all the time of how unattractive and unworthy she is.

She has accepted herself as she is. She's Monica. Not Monicow, not even Little Harmonica that her dad still calls her.

No one knows her like Rachel does and that's why they shouldn't judge her only by the way she looks. She knows it deep inside, but that doesn't stop the hot tears running down her face whenever she feels immense loneliness while Rachel is on a date or at cheerleading practice.

Her mom has always looked at her with a disdainful expression, but her dad has been telling her that she should not change for everyone.

Some days her mom wins. She locks herself in her room and she doesn't come out until late at night when everyone's asleep. She loses herself in the fridge, swallowing whatever she finds in there after spending a whole day without a proper amount of food in her stomach. Every time there's a voice inside her head that tells her that's why she keeps being fat, that it's an unhealthy habit and she has to put an end to it. Every time she ignores the voice and keeps eating.

Some days her dad's kind smile conquers everything. She spends time trying to discover more about herself. She eats with her family and helps with the chores, no matter how many comments her mom makes about doing things wrong. She discovers she likes cleanliness and order and she maintains that wherever she can, even if it's only in her room for the time being. She has stopped playing the piano for years; she couldn't see the point in doing it anymore. She has found an interest in cooking though, and while she is sure that is because she likes eating so much and not for any other reason, she experiments in her grandma's apartment in the city. She visits her grandma more often now that she's older and she finds that she enjoys herself a lot when she's with her. She takes every opportunity to bake cookies or make several kinds of soup and there's been nothing that hasn't tasted delicious so far. But she likes every kind of food, so she's probably not objective enough.

Some days she just doesn't care. She goes to school, eats, does her homework, sleeps, everything in a haze that doesn't let her distinguish any feeling. Her birthday is usually one of those days. Except that there's always some kind of party she has to go through, family she has to be cheerful around. Only family, because apart from Rachel, Ross and a few cousins, no one comes to her birthday parties. And this is the year she wants all of this to stop. She doesn't want a "party" with fake smiles and typical wishes. She wants something real, something fun.

Rachel's voice brings her back to reality.

"But your dad said he's already bought you sixteen candles, right?"

Monica scoffs. That's true. And she knows she won't say "no", no matter how much she wishes she could. She's helpless in such situations; she just has to please everyone, even if it seems that nobody is eager to please her.

She tells herself that she's not going to do it for her family this time. She's going to do it for Rachel. Her friend, who has always stood by her, deserves to have an exciting evening celebrating her sixteenth birthday.

She sighs. "Maybe it won't be that bad after all."

"Yay! It's going to be great, you'll see!" Rachel gives her a quick hug and they continue walking side by side.


	2. Chapter 2

**_AN__: __Thank you for your reviews! I started writing this out of the blue and I had no idea it would get such a response. As I said in the first chapter, this was supposed to be a three-chapter story, but some reviews gave me a few more ideas and I'm adding another chapter. I'm aware that the first chapter might have been a little harsh on Monica, but in my opinion she didn't have a good childhood and we've seen traces of that on the show. Keep in mind that I didn't write about all her birthdays. Some of them might have been better than the ones I decided to write about, but when you're a kid and most of your life hasn't been ideal, you can't always look at the bright side of things… I enjoy writing these birthday moments very much and I hope you'll enjoy this fluffier chapter, too._**

**_Anissa – Thank you for what you said about the title! This story was title-less until a minute before I published it and it's nice to see that you think it's appropriate. And I believe that, too. A few people make all the difference. It doesn't have to be the same people every time and it doesn't have to be a lot of them. Just the right people in the right time and everything can change._**

**_I didn't plan on posting the second chapter today, but since it's ready, it's a great opportunity for me to dedicate a birthday chapter to Franzi (soligblomma) whose birthday is today! _**

* * *

Monica is walking lazily towards the room she shares with one of her classmates from culinary school. She takes the longest route, enjoying the spring sun that warms her face.

She has been planning this evening for days.

It's her twentieth birthday, but noone knows. Maybe it's better this way.

She has claimed she had a class this evening in order to be left alone. She couldn't get out of dinner with her family the previous night though. It wasn't as awful as she expected it to be. The food was good and although she is now careful with her diet, she couldn't resist eating some of the chocolate frosted cake. Her mom wasn't as mean and judgmental as she usually is, but she thinks that it had probably something to do with the fact that Ross wasn't there.

Monica has to admit that she was a little disappointed at that. During the last year, she and Ross have become close, closer than they've ever been while living under the same roof.

She smiles at that thought. One of the reasons it has happened is Chandler. Chandler and his warm blue eyes, his teasing smile, the pain he hides inside, his big heart.

A couple of years ago, if someone told her that she would be best friends with her brother's best friend who had called her fat, she would laugh at their face.

Now their friendship is something natural, apparently for both of them, something so simple and yet so fulfilling.

Little did she know when she went to their dorm room to apologize about cutting his toe that they would end up having more in common than she ever thought possible. It took her months to take the courage to talk to him face to face, but that didn't change the fact that it has been an altering decision for her.

Her apology was about to end with a soft "it's okay" from Chandler when a drunk Ross stumbled through the door. They had helped him get into his bed before he started mumbling stuff about how beautiful dinosaurs looked.

Monica and Chandler had looked at each other and it was enough for a round of uncontrollable laughter to begin. They sat on the floor beside Chandler's bed and in between giggles, Monica managed to describe the last time she had seen Ross like that. Chandler started describing his own experience with drunk people ̶ his parents ̶ and without them realizing, they had shared personal stories noone else had known.

From that night, and after an awkward question from Chandler about whether they could hang out again some time, they found themselves together in more than plenty occasions. Rachel had already started to pull away and Monica spent a lot of evenings in the guys' dorm room watching movies with them. She quite liked that a friendship with her brother had already been forming as well.

Now he didn't even appear at her birthday dinner and she doesn't know what to think about this.

This is her first birthday without Rachel and noone else knows about it. She isn't sure she wants anyone to know. She's had enough unpleasant birthdays to expect something exciting from this day. Even last year's birthday party which was the best she could remember from her teenage years, wasn't something she would like to repeat. It was more Rachel's kind of birthday party than hers.

She decides to stop thinking about Rachel for now and go ahead with her plan of spending the rest of the day in the quietness of her room, along with the company of a good book.

She considers calling Chandler, but regrets it instantly. They've been friends for almost a year and she knows when his birthday is; if he cared, he would have asked about hers. Deep down she knows she's being unfair, but she prefers this than being disappointed when one more person doesn't remember what is considered to be her special day.

She realizes she has already passed her door and makes a full turn in the hallway.

She hears fussing behind her door and finds it weird, because her roommate is supposed to be away until tomorrow. She frowns and unlocks the door carefully.

"SURPRISE!"

She gasps audibly and her books fall from her hands. Her palm is covering her open mouth when Ross and Chandler envelope her in their arms in a loving group hug.

Her roommate is holding a cake with lit candles and they're all singing to her.

Ross and Chandler let her breathe and she looks at the faces around the room, her keys forgotten on the still open door. A few of her cousins and some classmates are there. She briefly wonders how the tiny room can hold fifteen people, but her thought is interrupted when the song ends.

She realizes she's been smiling the whole time and she finds it hard to diminish her grin in order to blow the candles.

She is trying anyway and wishes that her heart will always be bursting with happiness as she feels it doing right at this moment.

There are so many people smiling excitingly at her, even strangers who are standing out the door and wishing her a happy birthday.

She doesn't know who to hug first.

"It was all Chandler's idea." Her brother says from behind her.

That's all she needs to know and she's hugging Chandler again, only him this time. He wraps his arms around her and buries his nose in her hair.

"Happy birthday, Mon." He whispers in her ear.

"Thank you." She whispers back and wonders how she got so lucky to have found a friend like him.

Rachel is always in the back of her mind and she's still afraid that everyone will end up hurting her.

That's what she's thinking while her friends are eating cake and chatting. Despite those thoughts clouding her mind, she takes her first spoonful of cake and lets herself enjoy her special day.

* * *

Monica feels free. It's the only word she finds appropriate to explain how she feels and she's not sure whether any of her friends would understand.

So, she keeps her thoughts hidden behind her wide grin and just savors the moment.

It's the first time she spends a birthday knowing that she has her own apartment and a job that makes her independent. A few months ago she moved to the cozy apartment her grandmother formerly lived in and her life seems to have taken the right way since then.

Just three weeks after she moved she found a roommate. She was a weird girl, but from the moment Monica saw her, she felt the need to accept her in the apartment and in her life. It turned out that she wasn't wrong, despite her brother's initial worries and doubts.

She watches them now, Phoebe and Ross, bickering about the origins of the birthday candles tradition. She rolls her eyes, the smile never leaving her face, and turns to Ross' other side where his wife stands.

Monica frowns for a moment, taking in the image in front of her. Carol's body is slightly turned away from Ross and she's staring at something absentmindedly. Monica follows her gaze and finds a group of women laughing at the back of the bar. She looks at Carol again and then at Ross being engrossed in his conversation with Phoebe. Sadly, she thinks that if she didn't know the blonde woman has been married to her brother for almost a year, she wouldn't have guessed so.

A pleasant laugh interrupts her train of thought and the smile returns to her face once she realizes it's Chandler's.

Her best friend is chatting with his roommate, Kip, and their fourth beer has obviously made their mood even brighter than before.

The remains of the cake they've greedily eaten are still on the counter in front of them. She cringes when she remembers that they all dug into the cake without putting pieces in separate plates, without even cutting it.

_I should have made them give me the cake before we came here_, she thinks, but instantly regrets it, because somehow the way they have carelessly eaten that cake symbolizes the freedom she feels.

_Or maybe it's my fourth beer that just initiated that thought. _She chuckles and Chandler glances at her curiously, a soft smile on his lips. She smiles back, unable to contain the feeling of happiness.

She looks past her friend, towards Kip. She feels a shiver run down her spine and a blush creeps up her cheeks.

Her neighbor has been flirting with her for weeks, but nothing more has happened between them.

She finds him staring at her. Beside her Chandler rolls his eyes and goes to where Phoebe and Ross are standing, leaving only a bit of empty space between her and Kip.

Her own eyes twinkle and she decides to make their night even more interesting.

"Shots for everyone!" She announces and gestures to the barman.

She's twenty two years old. She has been legally ordering alcohol for a year, but she still feels the remnants of a profound independence adding up to the exhilaration of freedom and joy.

She hears a loud applause from her friends and feels Kip's hand sliding to her back.

Her grin widens and she wishes she'll always be able to have such excitement on her birthday.

* * *

Monica lets out a scream as she falls heavily on the floor.

Oh, no.

It's not the floor. It's Chandler.

He lets out an "oomph" and she's worried he's hurt, but his arms circle her waist and he keeps her close as he begins laughing in her hair. He's lying on his back on the floor and her head falls on his shoulder. His laughter is infectious and now their chests are moving up and down together, having found a synchronized rhythm.

A few inches beside them Phoebe and Joey are also on their backs next to each other and there's noone in the room who's not laughing at the moment.

Apparently, playing Twister isn't such a good idea when you're tipsy.

Or maybe it's the best idea, because they're all having the time of their lives and Monica can see it.

It's not only her who's having a great time. All her friends are having fun and it's one of the best feelings in the world.

The four of them are finally able to regain some of their composure and they lazily pack the game before joining Rachel and Ross. Phoebe sits on the couch with them while Joey takes the seat at the other side of the coffee table. Only the armchair is left unoccupied and Chandler plops in it. Monica frowns and, unable to stand for long in her dizzy state, pokes at his legs and his arms, trying to make him get up. He's laughing again and instead of giving her his seat, he pulls gently on her hands until she falls on him once again.

They both squirm in the seat originally designed for one and when they finally get situated, their legs are tangled, her arm is on his chest, his on her waist and her head lies comfortably on his shoulder.

Monica leaves an unintentional sigh and wishes Chandler hasn't noticed it.

This is normal for them. Sitting closely together, sharing their personal space. But she's slightly drunk and he is, too, and in her mind, this could lead to something else, something that could ruin their precious friendship. That's the last thing she wants. So, she just wishes he hasn't noticed that.

She is sure he has though, because the next moment he is squeezing her waist a little and his lips are on her hair.

She closes her eyes and fights with herself to not leave another content sigh as a result of the greatness of it all.

Everyone has calmed down and they're just sitting there, in a drowsy state, listening to the radio.

The silence gives Monica a chance to contemplate the events of the day.

It has been a good day. A few years ago, if someone told her that she would be surrounded by so many people who cared for her, she's not sure if she would believe it. But it has happened and there she is, having spent her day with all her favorite people.

It's the second year that Joey is here on her birthday and the first year that Rachel is back in her life. It was a little weird for her at first to have Rachel here, but soon they bonded again and Monica realized that she had actually missed her. Since Rachel had decided to change and take her life in her own hands, Monica knew she couldn't just stand and watch. She would help her. That's how it all started and now, months later, her life seems to be more complete with her old friend living with her. It felt like those six people were meant to be friends. That was what Phoebe had told them one day and although Monica found it hard to believe anything Phoebe said about fate, auras and horoscopes, she had to agree with her on that.

The time Monica spent with her best friends wasn't the only good thing that happened to her on her twenty fifth birthday.

She had lunch with her parents and Ross and it was one of the few times she had actually wanted to go to her parents' house. She has been quite busy at work lately and she ended up not visiting them for almost a month. She couldn't understand why, but she was looking forward to having lunch with them, despite the fact that she was dreading the possible disappointment she would feel afterwards.

Their lunch was great and her mother didn't have a lot of things to complain about. Other than the fact that she commented on Monica not having a boyfriend once again, she was generally nice and she was smiling fondly at both her children.

After they had eaten, Monica and Ross followed their parents to the living room. Their dad insisted on them staying a little longer, although Monica had told them they were in a hurry to get back to her apartment to prepare for the party she had planned.

Her dad took an envelope out of his pocket and handed it to Monica.

"My Little Harmonica, this is for your twenty fifth birthday." He told her and Monica was surprised to see his eyes were misty.

Her mom had a sincere smile on her face and Ross was eyeing everything with a knowing look.

Apparently, Monica was the only one who didn't know what was going on. With shaking hands, she opened the envelope and found an old bank book inside. Her eyes widened in shock and she was looking back and forth from her dad to her mom.

"It's the money we have been saving for you all these years." Her dad said like the bank book was self-explanatory. Actually, it should have been, but Monica couldn't let something like that sink in that simply. "It's yours now." Her dad continued.

Monica remembered that her parents gave Ross a similar bank book on his birthday a couple of years ago. It had never occurred to her that there was one for her, too. But of course there would be one. She was their kid as much as Ross was.

A smile formed on her face and her mom's hand reached her shoulder. "You deserve it, honey" She said and Monica realized she was getting a little misty-eyed herself. She hugged her mom and then got up and went to hug her dad.

Now she has found herself nearly asleep in Chandler's arms. She thinks there's nothing else she needs in her life right now.

Suddenly, Rachel's gasp breaks the calmness of the moment.

"I love this song!"

Monica has been so focused on her thoughts that it takes her a few seconds to figure out that the song is Always by Bon Jovi. _Who _doesn't_ love this song?_ she thinks.

She opens her eyes and finds her brother staring intently at Rachel who is swaying her upper body slowly to the music and mouths the lyrics. Monica rolls her eyes and glances at Chandler who's making a disgusted grimace. She chuckles silently and he looks at her. He instantly smiles and when she turns her head to Rachel and Ross again, she swears a little drool has left the corner of her brother's mouth, while Rachel is lost in her own world. She buries her face in Chandler's shoulder; she doesn't need to see this.

Suddenly, Chandler is singing along with the band.

_"I'll be there 'till the stars don't shine_

_'Till the heavens burst and the words don't rhyme_

_I know when I die you'll be on my mind_

_And I'll love you always"_

The song is almost over and she looks up at him. She thinks she sees something in his eyes, something different, while he's staring into hers. _It must be the alcohol; _she thinks and lays her head back where it feels the most comfortable place in the world.

* * *

**AN: One more thing, I know there's a lot of confusion about birthdays in FRIENDS, so I took the liberty to make Monica turn twenty five in the first season instead of twenty six. That was the only way it fit in my mind. Other than that, I just have in mind that her birthday is somewhere in the beginning of April.**


	3. Chapter 3

The last guests walked out the door half an hour ago. Once Monica closed it behind them, her friends offered to help her clean up, but she knew they were just being polite. They've known each other for years and they're well aware that she likes doing things her own way. Noone would stand between her and her cleaning.

Chandler teased her about it, but she didn't have the strength to tease back. She knew what he said was right anyway. So, she just started gathering the used plates from the living room, earning a concerned glance from all of them.

"Would you prefer us to go then?" Ross had asked.

"Yeah, I told you I got it." She answered as she reached the sink, not looking at any of them.

They wished her good night and left the apartment. Rachel brought the remaining plates and glasses to the sink and Monica felt her standing beside her for a few seconds too long before she gave her a side hug and went to her room.

They were all tired; it was best if they got some rest. Monica will get some rest, too, after she makes everything clean and organized again. She has a mission, just like after every party, and she's not going to abandon it for an extra hour of much needed sleep.

She has just finished the dishes. She wipes her hands with a tiny towel and head to the living room. She looks around and wonders what she will do next.

She notices a faint light coming out of the stereo system and realizes that the CD stopped playing before everyone left, but nobody switched it off. With a sigh and a few heavy steps she is in front of it. She takes the CD out, presses the "off" button and she faces out the window while still holding the CD case she just closed. She listens carefully for every tiny sound.

It's supposed to be quite. Rachel is probably already asleep, most of the neighbors are probably asleep; Monica can only see a couple of illuminated windows. Or they're just not at home on a Saturday night. Either way, there are no neighbors to make noise, so why does everything sound so loud?

She closes her eyes. She tries to focus on her heartbeat in order to shut the rest of the noises down.

It doesn't work. The noises are getting louder and louder.

Cars are honking, their brakes are screeching, their machines are working louder than they are supposed to.

A place can be heard from the sky. Seconds later, another plane passes above the city.

A dog is barking in the distance. Several cats are fighting nearby.

A man is suddenly screaming down the street and Monica's eyes widen in shock.

The noise coming from the cars covers the screams and everything is loud, loud, loud…

_When did New York City become that loud?_

Monica thinks she can't take it anymore. She covers her ears, but the sounds don't stop, they never stop. Her eyes are watering up, her heart is beating faster and faster and her brain tells her to stop this, but her body is ready to scream just like the man on the street, to scream until her ears explode and she doesn't have to hear all the noise anymore.

She doesn't want to be here anymore. New York has been her home for so long, but lately she doesn't feel like she belongs in this city. She has no idea where she belongs, but it's definitely not here.

She realizes she's shaking her head, her hands still covering her ears. Tears of frustration are still in her eyes, but she hasn't let any of them fall.

She has to do something.

She takes a deep breath.

Another one.

Another one.

She feels her nerves calming while her heart keeps beating fast and a single tear glides on her cheek.

Her mind finds part of its usual clarity and she knows there are several things she can do to feel at least a little better. She glances at a piece of wrapping paper and picks it up, along with every other piece that's in the room. She sits on the couch folding the pieces carefully and evenly. A faint smile appears on her lips at the thought of how smooth all the pieces are; they won't even need ironing.

She folds and folds until her eyes drop on a forgotten glass on the floor.

_Why on Earth would someone leave a glass _on the floor_?_

She sets the wrapping paper aside and picks up the glass. Her moves are calm, too calm, compared to the whirlwind of emotions she hides inside. She takes the glass to the sink and opens the faucet. The running water makes the act of composing herself even more difficult, the cool liquid reminding her of her unshed tears.

She has to get out of the apartment. She hurriedly gathers the trash she finds around –soda cans, paper napkins, even tiny things she has no idea how they ended up on her floor– and puts them all in a large garbage bag. She practically runs out the door, closing it loudly behind her. She hops down the stairs and throws the bag into the garbage disposal with force. She kicks the disposal once and winces at the pain the action brings on her toes. The tension has returned to her whole body, her face turning to a grimace, an inevitable short scream finally leaving her. Instantly she covers her mouth with her palm, hoping noone heard it.

And she's crying.

Her body is shaking with uncontrollable sobs and she's struggling to keep breathing. Even so, she looks around panicked that maybe someone will see her. She hates crying in front of people; she doesn't like to appear weak. Because she's not weak, _right? _She feels like she has a point to prove to everyone (to herself). She's not weak, she's not weak, she's not weak.

And she hates herself for being wrong. No matter what her logic tells her, no matter how her friends go out of their way to reassure her, she knows she's weak.

She brings her hands up to her eyes and hesitates only for a second, thinking that she was actually touching garbage with those hands only minutes ago, but she angrily wipes her tears anyway. She storms out of the small room and climbs up the stairs, two steps at a time. Once she reaches her floor, she crashes onto someone's chest. She takes a deep shaky breath and looks up.

It's Chandler. It's her amazing, sensitive, sweet friend Chandler, who has seen her crying more times than she would like to admit, and yet she feels like running away from him. Noone has to see her as weak as she's sure she looks right now.

Chandler is struggling to keep her close and she's struggling to get away. She takes several steps back when his arms try to go around her. She can hear him talking, but his words don't make any sense. It's all a blurry disappointment –she is a disappointment– and somewhere between the tears and the emptiness she feels, she can also sense his desperation to keep her close, to help her calm down. She knows him, she knows he _wants_ to be there for her, but she doesn't _need_ him, she doesn't need anyone, not even her caring friend who has nothing but love and support to give her.

She's so tired of fighting with herself, of fighting with him (_When did he become so strong?_) and she surrenders to his embrace, letting him hold her and provide her with some of his strength. She promises herself it will be just for a moment, but his arms feel like warm familiar comfort instead of the cold pressure she was expecting and she slowly remembers her place in the world.

The remnants of her outburst still have her mind screaming, but this time she hears his words clearly "What's wrong, Mon?"

Chandler's lips brush against her brow and his piercing blue eyes search her soul. She finds herself unable to look away. Her eyes are still moist and feel puffy, but the tears have finally stopped.

Chandler looks around and it's then that Monica realizes they've been standing in the hallway between their apartments the whole time. He pulls her gently with him and together they step through the open door into his apartment.

"Everything is falling apart." Her raspy voice sounds foreign to her. Chandler doesn't seem to mind though, as his hand start rubbing her back in small circles and he tells her "That's not true".

"But it is. I'm twenty eight years old, Chandler. Twenty eight! My job sucks. They actually treat me worse than my classmates did at school. And I was fat then, now I'm not and they're still like that, what do I have to do for people to like me, Chandler, what?"

Chandler opens his mouth, but Monica doesn't let him speak.

"My last boyfriend dumped me almost a year ago for a stupid fighting championship and the only guy I've dated since then is my other ex-boyfriend's son! It was creepy and I still don't have a boyfriend, something that my mom didn't forget to mention today, more than once I might add. It's just that… I don't know what to do. I'm growing up and I'm supposed to figure my life out, but I feel like I'm stuck and nothing I do is enough. I don't know what to do, Chandler." The last words are muffled as she has let her head fall on Chandler's shoulder.

His hand never stops caressing her back as he starts talking softly. She can feel his lips moving, so close to her ear. "You already know that you're one of my favorite people; I've told you again and again. But do you know why? Because you're the strongest woman I've ever met, Mon. You have no idea how much I admire your fascinating personality, your courage and your big heart, do you? Don't let anyone make you feel unworthy, because that's the only thing you're not. You're amazing. You're important."

"It's so hard to believe all that right now." Monica whispers.

"Still, I have to try." He says with a wink. "I'll tell you what. In a year from now, you'll have the best birthday ever. This day will be just a distant memory among all the other memories you'll have collected since then. The other memories will be so good though, that you might not even remember how you felt today."

Monica scoffs. "Yeah, right."

"What? You don't believe me now either? You'll see in a year." He says, flashing her a grin.

Monica shakes her head. She doesn't feel any better about her life, but a faint smile is on her lips. Once again, Chandler has managed to make the situation a little lighter.

* * *

"That's my ribbon!" Chandler exclaims, looking towards Rachel.

"It is?" Rachel asks innocently.

"I've been looking everywhere for it and you've had it all that time?" He sounds irritated.

"Joey said you had some in your room, so I took it. Is that such a crime? You didn't need a ribbon for your gift anyway!"

Rachel rolls her eyes and Monica can't help but chuckle with their exchange. She opens Rachel's gift, careful not to ruin the beautiful wrapping paper. She gives the used ribbon strip to Chandler beside her and he glares at her for a moment. She flashes him a grin and she knows he's going to vent about how Rachel stole his ribbon later tonight and she's going to let him even though she doesn't think it's that important.

Rachel's gift is a cute blouse along with a matching scarf. Monica always wants to open the most exciting present last, but once again that's not the case. Despite the fact that it's her birthday, there's one of her friends who gets the biggest piece of cake (of course it's Joey), one who manages to make everyone listen to her choice of music (Phoebe, who has been playing songs on her guitar for an hour) and now there's Rachel who insisted that Monica should open her present last. Monica had expected such a present from Rachel. Her friend values fashion and everyone's choices around it. There's a card that has information about changing the products, but it won't be needed. The blouse and the scarf are pretty and exactly like Monica's style. Luckily everyone will be pleased.

Monica thanks her friend and a wide smile spreads on Rachel's face. Monica thinks of it as another part of her present for tonight. No matter how much she gets out of her way to please her friends, even on her birthday, she enjoys it. Sometimes seeing them happy is what she needs to taste her own happiness. At least that has been the case after the first few satisfying months with Chandler. She has a good job and a great boyfriend. All she really needs is her friends and their smiles. Sometimes she's the one who makes them smile and this feeling of fulfillment flutters in her heart.

Tonight has been one of those nights when only love and laughter surround them. Apart from the latest issue with Chandler's ribbon –which she intends to find out about when she gets him alone in one of their bedrooms– everything has gone smoothly. After an early lunch with her parents and a midday shift at the restaurant, she spent the evening of her birthday in hers and Rachel's apartment along with Chandler and her close friends. They've been eating and chatting, the familiarity of the situation leaving them all seemingly content. Her twenty-ninth birthday couldn't have gone better.

She looks at all her presents lined up on the coffee table in front of her. There's a blue velvet jewelry box among them and she doesn't fight the urge to pick it up and open it once again. She traces the delicate bracelet with her index finger and her gaze towards it is awestruck but thoughtful. She has been sending not so subtle hints to Chandler for weeks now and she has a feeling he bought it for her birthday the first time she stared at it through the window of the antique shop. _There's something in receiving jewelry from the man you spent most of your days and all of your nights with, _she thinks. But why doesn't this feel right? Would she prefer something else? Something that would maybe feel more personal? Chandler's hand is suddenly resting on her knee, his thumb starting to rub slow circles there. She can feel his warmth even through the fabric of her pants and she dismisses her thoughts without much effort. Besides, she asked for that particular present from him and his presence in her life is more than she ever thought she could have.

One by one they rise from their seats in the living room and help Monica clean up. Not really helping her, more like standing there while she does everything, but they all know it's what she wants. If she asks for that plate that's still on the coffee table or for the bag of trash to disappear from the apartment, someone obeys without questions and everything is wonderfully perfect. She wonders if that has anything to do with the disaster that was her previous birthday.

Everyone leaves, one by one, until she stands close to the apartment's door, in the middle of a staring contest between Rachel and Chandler. She's trying hard not to laugh when Rachel mutters "What kind of man owns a red ribbon?" and storms into her bedroom, closing the door behind her.

Chandler's features relax slightly and he gestures to Monica towards the door of the apartment. She switches off the lights and follows him outside and into his apartment. Apparently it's his bedroom their spending the night in. After the initial hiding period before everyone found out about their relationship, they've spent an equal amount of time in each of their bedrooms. She has underwear and some casual clothes in his bedroom and he even has a couple of his work suits in hers. Each of their bathrooms is now equipped with three toothbrushes, so after a long day Monica doesn't hesitate to not think back to the comforts of her own apartment when she closes both parts of her boyfriend's bedroom door.

"What was all that about the red ribbon?" Monica asks with a chuckle.

"Did you think the bracelet was your only present from me?" Chandler answers in a serious tone.

Monica is surprised. She has realized she did want something else, but having Chandler there with her is more than enough. She wanted something; but she didn't need it. "Is there more?" She asks curiously.

"Yeah. Me!" His tone isn't that serious now and he makes an animated move with his hands, pointing to himself.

She smiles. His answer has her confused though. "I have you anyway, but what does that have to do with the ribbon?"

"I needed something to wrap myself in." Chandler says incredulously and looks down for a second.

Monica's expression is still puzzled until she follows his gaze and realization hits her. A fit of laughter breaks through her and a minute later she falls on the bed, clutching her stomach.

She adores this man.

When she manages to finally collect herself, she meets his eyes rolling hers. "Seriously?"

Chandler nods enthusiastically, but frowns a moment later. "Rachel ruined my plan."

"I'm glad." Monica says pointedly.

Chandler chuckles. "Did you have a good time?" He asks as he bends down to search the bottom of his wardrobe.

Monica sighs contently. "Yes. It was perfect."

He turns around to grin at her for a moment before he buries his head in the wardrobe again. A moment later he retrieves something that looks like another gift. So, there really is something else. Maybe that's why the bracelet didn't exactly feel right.

Chandler sits beside her on the bed and hands it to her. There's a comfortable feeling in the air, but his intense gaze into her eyes makes the situation somewhat tense. She wonders what his gift of his hides and takes it from him impatiently.

The tearing of the wrapping paper is the only sound in the silence of the night. A small simple notebook is revealed. The cover is blank, but it's obvious that there's writing in some of the pages. She opens it and reads the title _June 1998 – Apricot Sherbet_. A recipe follows in Chandler's handwriting.

"Do you remember when we had something like that?"

Chandler's voice startles her. She turns to him slowly and a smile appears on her lips.

"It was the first time we left my apartment after we got back from London. It was hot and we needed something to cool us down after all that sweat and exertion." Her smile widens and matches his grin.

"For some reason I went back to that place a couple of weeks later and asked for the recipe. They had told us that they made it themselves, so it seemed like a good idea. But the next day we managed to sneak out and went to that bar with the awesome melon cocktails." He turns the page for her, leaning over her shoulder. As expected, the title says _July 1998 – Melon Cocktail_. "It made sense to ask for that recipe as well and in my mind it turned into a thing."

Monica takes a deep breath. Tears have formed in her eyes. He's been doing that since the first week they were together, when they weren't even officially together. But who were they kidding? They now know that once they opened that door there was no way back for either of them. The only thing Chandler did was be his amazing self and his actions keep touching a deep part of her soul noone has ever touched before.

The tears of happiness are almost there and she doesn't know if she'll be able to hold them for the turning of at least eight more pages – eight more months of fruit recipes, one for every wonderful month they've enjoyed together.

August is _just figs _followed by a smiling face and Monica chuckles as she remembers his excitement the first time he ate figs in his entire life. She was teasing him about it for days.

September is the handmade plum marmalade they tasted in a Bed and Breakfast during their first _successful_ weekend away. Monica doesn't think she's ever tasted more delicious marmalade.

October is _grapes in bed_. Chandler winks at her suggestively once she turns to him and there's no explanation needed. She remembers that night quite well.

November is pomegranates and that exquisite salad they ate at a luxurious restaurant. They had silently agreed to celebrate their five month anniversary there. They didn't say a word about it to each other, but they were both aware of the importance of their relationship in their lives. It was a long incredible night that ended with them gazing into each other's eyes for hours, their bodies entwined in his bed.

December is the quince spoon sweet they had at a Greek restaurant as a dessert one of the few days they managed to find some time just for themselves before Christmas.

January is the apple pie Monica made after New Year's Day. She looks up at him questioningly, because it's actually her recipe. "It was just SO good." He explains and she's shaking her head, smiling. She doesn't remember him asking for any recipe, so she guesses he must have gone through her recipe books. Strangely enough, she doesn't seem to mind. Her books are in order and nothing has seemed to be missing. He's done a good job.

February is the tangerine cake with a citrus glaze they had after dinner in their secret Valentine's Day date. Monica closes her eyes as she remembers the wonderfully sweet taste of the baked good melting in her mouth. Her inner fat girl had showed up that night and she was grateful she was on a date with Chandler and she could actually be only herself with her lover for once.

March is oranges and the semolina halva they tasted a few days ago. Monica smiles proudly to herself as she realizes that she was right. The halva really had orange juice in it, just like she guessed.

An inexplicable feeling of sadness creeps into her as the months should come to an end. But when she turns the page she reads _April 1999 – Strawberries(?) _and then_ May 1999 – Cherries(?) _and a tear finally escapes down her cheek.

"I thought we could add something for the following two months. I mean, there have to be some delicious recipes made with strawberries and cherries, right?" Chandler says and looks at her expectantly.

Monica nods and buries her head on his shoulder. Chandler wraps his arm around her and keeps her close.

"Are you okay?" He asks and she can hear the concern in his voice.

"I'm great." She mumbles and she lets the notebook fall beside her on the bed so she can fist Chandler's shirt and never let go. "This is perfect." She whispers and feels him nodding against her forehead.

"So, those are happy tears."

"Definitely."

They stay like that for a moment and when Monica pulls away slightly it's to ask him "Have you gone out of your way to make this day that good for me this year?"

"We all have. Because we love you. I love you." Chandler says and she swears his voice is breaking a little in the end.

She loves him so much, a feeling that has her chest tightened and her heart beating madly inside her. A feeling that overwhelms her whole existence, but without which she wouldn't be who she is today. She needs to express everything to him and she's struggling, because she's not sure how.

She starts with an "I love you, too" and a long kiss on his lips.

* * *

Monica is flying up the stairs.

Flying? No, not flying. More like dragging one foot on one step, the other foot on the next step, then the first foot again… How can an action like ascending the stairs of her apartment building feel both exhausting and light at the same time?

_You're drunk, that's how. _She thinks as she reaches the hallway of another floor. She's about to pass by it, when she realizes it's _her_ floor. She breathes a loud giggle and rummages in her purse in search of her keys. She holds them up in triumph and stumbles to the nearest wall. A door is suddenly in front of her and she realizes it's not her door. But she has a key in her hands and the door has a keyhole, so the next things she knows is that she can't open it and it frustrates her, makes her want to try even harder.

It's late -only a few hours before midnight- and she deliberately stayed with her colleagues a little bit longer in order to avoid her friends' reassurances that turning thirty is fine. Because it's not fine. Time is going by so fast and there are still so many things she would like to experience in her life. She's afraid that she won't be able to fulfill her biggest dreams. She shudders at the thought that it's already too late. Her colleagues did exactly what she thinks she deserves today; they confirmed her fear that turning thirty is the worst thing that could happen to her at this point in her life.

She's determined to open this stupid door and she usually gets what she wants when she doesn't stop trying. So, she keeps fiddling with the keys and when it still doesn't open, she puts the keys back in her purse and slumps down the floor, defeated.

It's late and even though she knows Chandler and her friends are waiting for her inside the apartment across the one she's now leaning on, she's startled when she hears its door open. She hates being weak, but she hates people seeing her weak even more. She can't even unlock the door and "weak" is the only word that appears in her mind ("drunk" being another one, but she pushes it in the back of her thoughts), so she can't help the smile that forms on her face when she sees that it's Chandler in front of the door. He closes it behind him and it's just the two of them in the hallway and it's okay, because it's Chandler and she can be herself around Chandler. In fact, she can only be herself around Chandler. She can't pretend to be someone else, because he knows her too well. But now it's Chandler and her voice gets shrill when she exclaims "Heeey, you got the door open!".

He asks her if she's drunk and even though it's Chandler, she's still trying to deny it. Her mind isn't clear, but she's certain he's going to know she's lying anyway. She holds the door handle hard to manage to stand and the door opens. She momentarily closes it again and feels confused for a moment. _Did I unlock it or was it unlocked the whole time?_

She takes a few unsteady steps towards Chandler and starts talking to him. Even in her dizzy state she feels that she owes him an explanation. Only after she says that she was drinking out loud, does the fact that the alcohol has also affected her body dawn on her. She swallows the bitter taste of bile and despite her uneasiness, she still feels light and a strange laugh comes out of her mouth.

But Chandler is saying something serious and she's trying to focus on his voice. She understands something about "formal" and about her parents being here. She wants to panic, she thinks she has to, but she can't bring herself to care right now.

Chandler tells her that they have to go in and he will take care of everything. His love and support are radiating from him in waves that hit her hard and suddenly all she wants is to be taken care of. She acts worried and even if she's in fact relatively calm in a situation that otherwise she would dread experiencing, his reassurance is everything. She loves him so much and she's in arms telling him so. He doesn't say it back; he's muttering some other things instead and she's muttering back, but not even her own words make sense to her. The only thing she knows is that he looks incredibly cute and she can't hide her grin while she gets the words "act surprised".

He's gesturing to her to be quiet and she's trying to, while she's walking towards the door in a way that she thinks is discrete. He offers her his hand and she takes it. Together they enter their dark apartment and in seconds the lights are on and everyone's loud.

_Act surprised._

She just wants to be loud like them.

She screams.

Everything is really blurry after that. The echo of her own scream has left a ringing in her ears and combined with the buzzing of conversations all around, it doesn't let her be aware of what's really going on. Her parents are definitely there as well as many other people. She looks around and she doesn't think she recognizes most of the ones her gaze fells onto. Chandler is leading her through the apartment and pushing her gently towards their bedroom, interrupting the fun conversation she had briefly started with Phoebe.

Monica falls onto the bed, facing down, her hand still clutching her purse. She hears someone entering and closing the door.

"Come on, Mon, we need to get you into a nice dress." She hears Rachel's voice like it's coming from far away.

She moves on her side, supporting herself on her elbow. She watches Rachel who's already wearing a pretty dress. Her eyes roam on her own outfit and she doesn't find anything wrong with it.

"Why?" She asks simply.

"Because it's a formal party and you don't want your parents to know that you're drunk."

"I'm not drunk." She says and a giggle escapes her.

"Of course you're not." Rachel says and rolls her eyes.

"Who said I don't want my parents to see me drunk?" She challenges Rachel.

"You, Monica. You said it." She replies slowly, dragging out the words.

"Oh. Did I?" Monica asks and another giggle finds its way out.

"Come on." Rachel mutters and she looks impatient, but she's there and she's trying to help her and Monica thinks it's sweet, so she just smiles at her at lets her help.

They're out of the bedroom in no time and the loud fuss of the crowd is back. The only think Monica hears is the noise and it doesn't matter where they are. She just doesn't want to hear it. She doesn't know what she really wants. Maybe she wants silence, but maybe she wants to join the loud voices and scream again.

People are surrounding her and they sit her down in Chandler's chair. She turns her head and Chandler is crouching close to her. She knows what she wants. She wants him. But he doesn't seem like he wants her. Why? Has she said something wrong? She needs to show her love and desire for him. Everyone knows they've been together for almost two years now and they've been living together for one year, so what's the problem in a little making out session in his chair? Well, Ross definitely doesn't want to see that and he shows it. But what does he know? He's drunk.

Chandler is talking and talking, but he says nothing that interests her and doesn't he remember how much _fun _they had right on this ugly chair the other day?

She hears a weird ringing sound and Phoebe says something about a speech and the birthday girl. Monica looks at Chandler, freaked out, because she knows she's the birthday girl, she's the one who turned thirty today.

Her parents are asking for a speech and she realizes they're still there and it's probably good that she didn't kiss Chandler as hard as she wanted to earlier. She ends up standing and facing them. She's unsteady on her feet and a new wave of dizziness hits her. She feels Chandler beside her. He extends his arms towards her, but she stops him, because she's got it. She thanks everyone and keeps talking; she can do this. She's sensible and collected. She's also not fun. At least that's what everyone tells her .

_What?_

No. She can be fun if she wants to. Who says everyone else is fun? Something inside her snaps. She doesn't care if her parents find out she's drunk. In fact, it would be better if she told them. So she does. She's drunk, but she's a grown up. Her parents stare at her in shock and condemnation, but that's the way they usually look at her, so she shouldn't care. She does though, even in her drowsy state, and that's the last thing in her mind before all she can see is black.

She opens her eyes slowly. There's a faint light coming from the window. Her vision is blurry, but her brain registers it as streetlights. The morning hasn't come yet.

She can feel Chandler beside her on the bed. Judging from his even breathing, she knows he's asleep.

She sits up and regrets it immediately. Her head is throbbing and bile rises up her throat. Ignoring the pain on her head, she runs to the bathroom.

After leaving the contents of her stomach into the toilet, she drags herself towards the bedroom again. She jumps when Chandler comes from behind her. He gives her a glass of water and she accepts it thankfully.

They head to their room together and in the stronger light that now comes from his nightstand, she notices a big bowl on hers. She doesn't feel well and her headache is getting stronger and stronger, but she gives him a smile. He nods and pushes her gently on the bed. He follows after her and while they're trying to settle into the sheets, she can't help but feel blessed to have him in her life. He threw a whole party for her and what touches her soul is how considerate he was to leave a bowl for her to throw up into. _How awfully beautiful that is…_

They find themselves lying on their sides, facing each other. He says nothing, just waiting for her to be ready to talk, but she feels his gaze on her.

"I got scared." Her voice is soft, almost a whisper.

"Why? You were okay this morning. We made plans and everything." His voice is hoarse from sleep, but it somehow sounds so soft. She can sense the worry in his words and she feels even worse.

"Time is going by so fast, Chandler."

"Honey… That's okay." He brings his hand up to cradle her cheek. His familiar warmth seeps into her skin and it's really okay.

She sighs. "You get scared a lot. You know how it's like."

He smiles. "I admit that I do. But do you know why you turning thirty is okay? Because in your thirties you'll have something you didn't have in the biggest part of your twenties."

"And what's that?" She teases, a faint smile appearing on her lips.

"The Chan-Chan man, the Incredible Lover." He says in a serious tone and if his purpose was to make her laugh and feel a little better, he's succeeded.

Her head still hurts –maybe even more than before, if that's possible– but the promise of _forever _is lingering between them, in his eyes, in the kiss he leaves on her forehead, in the comfort he brings into her life, and when sleep takes her again, it's with a feeling of safety and excitement about their future.

* * *

**A/N: Thank you all for your reviews. I'm sorry it has taken me so long to update. There's one more chapter in this story with three more birthdays of Monica! As you saw, in the third birthday of this chapter, I've borrowed the show's storyline. I didn't intend to do so initially, but after one of Chrisi's reviews I thought I'd tried to write something for season 7. I'm a little insecure about it, mostly because I don't know how to deal with drunken people and to be honest, I'm not fond of the idea of anyone being drunk. So, tell me what you think about it? And about the other two birthdays of course ;) One of them was inspired by some of my own birthday and every day experiences. But I don't have a Chandler to comfort me. Lucky Monica!**


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